


word of mouth

by bloodrunsred



Series: R&M Two-Shots [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BAMF Morty Smith, Badass Morty Smith, Citadel of Ricks, Crack Treated Seriously, Deutsch | German, Español | Spanish, Français | French, Funny, Grandpa Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Inappropriate Humor, Languages, Languages and Linguistics, Latino Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Morty speaks French, POV Rick, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodrunsred/pseuds/bloodrunsred
Summary: Image: Morty sitting cross legged on a couch, reading a book with a French blurb and coverRicardoSanchez:HOLY SHIT I JUST ASKED MY MORTY TO PRONOUNCE THIS FRENCH THING AND HE SAID IT AND IT SOUNDED RIGHTRicardoSanchez:what the fuck???DaBestRicardo:back upDaBestRicardo:mortys can read???OR:Mortys know French, and this is the first time Ricks are hearing about it.





	1. j’adore mon poisson rouge

**Author's Note:**

> this is a cute little crack fic, and really fun?? my french might be off because i literally haven't written anything in french for 38647502 million years, so let me know if i made a mistake somewhere!!
> 
> also, viviane elisabeth fauville is by julia deck, and is a really good book. i really enjoyed it - definitely check it out!
> 
> TRANSLATION at the end!!!

The Citadel is a shithole. 

There's always bustling crowds, an artificial sun, and a sense of mediocrity that plagues Rick wherever he goes. He doesn't mind large groups of people, as a general rule; but when said group is just versions of himself with slight variations, it's a bit hard to stand out like he usually does. He wouldn't even be staying there if his portal gun hadn't died on him, and now he and Morty are both stuck there.

They're on a delivery and pick-up mission. It's not really a mission, but it's the only word that can motivate Rick to move his ass, since it's so, so boring. At least the materials they're collecting will help repair his portal gun, so they don't have to stay here with the rest of these losers.

He scoffs as a clumsy Morty stumbles into  _his_ Morty.

"Excusez-moi," the boy hurries to stabilise himself, only keeping himself upright with his grip on Morty's shoulders. "Je - je suis  _très_ désolé. Je dois partir, mon Rick-" He cuts himself off, like he's aware he's rambling, and looks pleadingly at Rick, like he was about to be smacked for being bound by gravity.

Before Rick can open his mouth to tell the boy he doesn't speak the gay-ass language, and to go find a pansy-Rick that does, Morty cuts in. 

"Je - Ce n'est pas ton faute," Morty,  _his_ Morty says, offering a quick smile, before shoving the other's shoulder lightly to get him moving again. "Salut!"

The other boy calls out a stuttered farewell in return, and Morty continues walking.

Wait. Rick's brain does the equivalent of a record scratch, and takes a while to reboot.

Since when does Morty know _French?_

 

 

*

 

The only problem with asking Morty, is Rick's pride.

He's said, time and time again, that he knows Morty better than he knows himself. And that's true, for the most part; he knows what makes the boy tick, what makes him Morty. He knows him down to every cell in his body, and could predict his words before he's even processed them himself.

But he had never expected Morty to bust out a differen't language.

Morty who couldn't even speak Blarnpblurnp (granted, the language was ninety-percent spluttering), or even begin to understand Rick's Spanish rants. How could the kid have successfully hid this about himself?

Maybe he hadn't - maybe he had memorised a few polite phrases to impress a French girl or something. No experiment is any good without data, so the first thing he does is buy a dingy little book from a store, entirely in French.  _Viviane Élisabeth Fauville._ The translator in his eye says it's about murder, and that's good enough for him. He tucks it into his labcoat, and they finish their little chores before returning home.

Before, Rick would have gone into his shitty, rented bedroom, and sulked over being in the Citadel, but now he has this little quirk he needs to sort out.

He storms into the lounge-room (a cramped space with a sofa littered with whiskey stains), and throws the book at Morty, who covers his head with his arms instinctively. "Ow!" He yelps, even though Rick was positive he hadn't thrown it that hard. "Jeez!"

"I got you this." Rick's aware it sounds sappy, and emotionally-based to buy his grandson a present, and he tries his best not to squirm in embarrassment. Ugh. No Rick wants to actively spoil or treat their Morty, and he can just imagine the jabs Morty will make about it later. The lengths he goes to for science... "You're welcome, dipshit."

Morty's got stars in his eyes, and he squeezes the book tight to his chest, offering Rick a bright smile. "Gee, thanks, Rick! You really didn't have to do that." When Rick doesn't say anything else, he holds it up, skims the blurb, and  _starts reading it._

Holy shit.

He can't say anything now, so he does the only thing he can:

He jumps on the Rick chat-site.

Made by Ricks, for Ricks, to communicate, talk, and bitch about anything and everything.

He types out a message with his thumbs, sending Morty suspicious looks as he does so. It's published to the feed in seconds, and Ricks are free to comment on it as they see fit.

 

 **RiggetyRick:** MORTYS CAN SPEAK FRENCH???

There's a ding in seconds.

 **picklerick234:** lol no they cant

 **RiggetyRick:** look me and my morty ran into some little french bastard, and my morty is apparently also a little french bastard

 **RiggetyRick:** i know what i saw man

 **RicardoSanchez:** what? do you have any proof or is this just a prank. arent mortys too stupid to know more than english

 **RiggetyRick:** THATS WHAT I THOUGHT

 **RiggetyRick:** but look at this

_Image: Morty sitting cross legged on a couch, reading a book with a French blurb and cover_

**RicardoSanchez:** HOLY SHIT I JUST ASKED MY MORTY TO PRONOUNCE THIS FRENCH THING AND HE SAID IT AND IT SOUNDED RIGHT

 **RicardoSanchez:** what the fuck???

 **DaBestRicardo:** back up

 **DaBestRicardo:** mortys can read???

 **Richard3:** dude what 

 **Wubbalubba:** AHAHAHA DID YOUR MORTY CONVINCE YOU HE COULDNT READ

 **Wubbalubba:** IM GOINF TO PISS MYSELF BAHAHAHA

 **DaBestRicardo:**  @wubbalubba whats your dimension number??? ill fucken bash you

 **picklerick234:** im curious but if i ask my morty he'll be a dick about it, someone here explain

 **sanchezium:** isnt there like a terrorist named duolingo? maybe he made them learn it

 **beeyatchricky:** duolingo is a terrorist in your dimension??? what the shit????

 **sanchezium:** what else would he be

 **beeyatchricky:** nothing, your dimension checks out

 **littlerick:** Back to the matter at hand... What's common enough in all dimensions that our Mortys all speak French?

 **DrRick:** bitch none of us know, we're deadbeats remember??

 **littlerick:** Oh yeah

 **wubbalubbadubdub:** sum1 plz ask beth

 **riki:** but she'll laugh at us :/

 

*

 

Rick is still no closer to finding out what Morty's deal is. He seems engrossed in his book, and is moving through it fairly quickly; in fact, Rick can't tell a difference between him reading this book versus any other English book. He might be faking it, but it seems unlikely, Rick thinks.

So he really, really knows the language. 

The question now is how? How does Morty know a whole language, and not mention it in the three years they've been hanging out, and doing badass shit together? He's fifteen now, and he probably didn't learn it in high school - no, Rick knows for a  _fact_ that Morty took Spanish - so that begs the question:

How and when did Morty learn French?

So the interrogation begins.

"Hey, Morty," Rick says, drawing Morty's attention from the pages of the book. "What's your favourite country in the world?"

Morty hums, tilting his head to the side like he always does when he's puzzling over something. "Maybe - maybe Germany?" He finally says, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "I don't know, really."

Shit, does Morty know German too?

"Ich liebe dich!" It's the only German Rick knows, amd he's not exactly sure what it means. "Ich liebe dich!"

Morty looks touched, and maybe a little concerned. He drops his book, and crosses his arms over his chest; Rick feels like he’s being judged (and being found guilty, of whatever it is he’s done now).

Eventually, the storm boils over and a smile spreads on Morty’s face like the sun over land. “I love you too, Rick.”

Rick blinks. Then huffs. He still doesn’t know if Morty knows-knows German.

And he told the kid he  _loved_ him.

Fuck, mysteries ruined him.

 

*

 

After a few more tests, Rick concludes that Morty doesn't know German - only a few phrases, it seems. But he still knows French, and Rick's almost obsessed with finding out how.

He's working on his portal-gun when Morty knocks on his door, carrying a mug of coffee that Rick just knows has already been topped off with a shot of whiskey. Morty's a good kid, he really is. He sips it, not minding the scalding heat over the instant energy that sweeps over him.

"So, how are things going, mon ami?" Morty says, and Rick chokes. The accent and pronounciation sounds like it's out of a textbook, and Rick is going to die drowning on coffee. 

"Out!" Rick splutters, his hands already reaching for his phone. "I need - I need thinking space, Morty, thinking space-"

Morty slams the door, and Rick pulls up the chat-room.

 **RiggetyRick:** HE KEEPS SPEAKING FRENCH TO ME

 **RiggetyRick:** tell me someone knows whats going on

 **bluhairdontcare:** because im not a PUSSY, i asked my beth. she said that they lived in france for 3-4 years when morty was little, cos jerry was convinced there would be more jobs for him in france for some reason

 **ricksancchez:** does he even speak french?

 **bluhairdontcare:** oh not a word

 

*

 

**mortysmithh has made a new post.**

**mortysmithh:** guys, my rick keeps dropping hints about the french thing? who told :(

Morty opens up the Morty app (by Ricks, for Mortys - though the Ricks were promptly blacklisted from accessing anything about it), and types up a short answer. He feels guilty, definitely, for not asking before exposing them all, but Rick had been so upset over not having anything to do aside from work on his gun that he had to do  _something._ It could have been worse. He could have exposed them for all the bits and pieces they've picked up while with Rick.

Rick would blow a gasket if he found out Morty did (mostly) understand him when he was shit-talking in Blarnpblurnp.

 **onetruemorty:** sorry guys, my fault :( i responded to a french morty and lead my rick on so he wasnt stuck in his rut anymore.

 **onetruemorty:** so, so sorry

 **mortysmithh:** oh well :/ my rick is on the rick version of this app. he's sorting through all the messages and trying to figure this all out.

_Image: Rick hunched over his phone, glaring at the screen._

**morrty:** eh bien

 **morrty:** at least he doesn't know we speak spanish

 


	2. un poco loco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty makes Rick un poco loco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have un poco loco stuck in my head,,, this is how i die.
> 
> but honestly, i hope you enjoy this, and make sure to let me know if you do! please excuse my gushing over one of our latest character add-ons (she’s a beaut!)
> 
> The chapter titles are just songs: 
> 
> “j’adore mon poisson rouge” means, “i love my goldfish” from the song “poisson rouge”.
> 
> “un poco loco” means, “a little crazy”, from the song “un poco loco” (from the movie Coco).

Morty isn't a total idiot; he knows how to keep secrets, and he knows how to keep them well. 

Well, not entirely well. The thing about Morty is that he cracks very easily under pressure. Or not under pressure. Just in general, he's typically a weak-willed person, which usually suits Rick just fine. Morty has defended secrets to Rick in the past; Summer's blatantly obvious self-esteem issues, Beth's 'secret' needy texts to Jerry, the list goes on. Rick normally doesn't care enough to ask him about the family, because he already knows everything.

But he should apparently be asking more questions, because Morty has become a sneaky little brat without him noticing.

"S-so, Morty," Rick says, portal-gun in hand as he fiddles with it on the couch. "Had any cool, bilingual conversations today? With your—with your little French friends?"

Morty just rolls his eyes, and Rick is almost a little offended. His questioning over the last few days has been getting progressively more and more obvious, and Morty's obviously a little amused with Rick's struggles. "Not really, Rick," he says, running his fingers through his hair. What a  _liar._ "Why—why do you ask, Rick?"

Shit! Though Rick has been less-than-subtle, he doesn't want Morty catching on so quickly. Even though it's unlikely, given how stupid he can be, Rick doesn't want to take any chances. "O-oh, I just—I was going to visit Ricardo, the one that runs the bar? And I  _was_ going to ask you to bring one of your dumb friends, so I'm not the only one speaking another language."

Morty looks like he's going to laugh, and Rick frowns suspiciously. "S-sure," Morty says, his smile so wide that Rick's genuinely worried it might split his cheeks in half. "Sure—let's go with 'Tisha."

Rick snorts. "Which one of your dumbass friends is called 'Tisha'? Way to feel special, choosing a _girl_ name to call yourself." Morty opens his mouth, and he quickly says: "Never mind, I literally don't care. At all."

Morty looks like he desperately wants to say something, and barely manages to restrain himself. He has the same look on his face as he did when he started speaking French everywhere, and Rick wants to crack this new code in the equation. He regrets not letting Morty talk—which really, is a first for him—because now he can't change his mind. What will Morty think of him, if he takes it back? Not very highly, Rick thinks.

He'd probably even mention it to his stupid, little Morty friends, and they would all titter and laugh over it.

So, definitely not an option.

He had run into a Miami Morty, and had fallen over; the bruise on his knee had healed much quicker than the verbal lashing the Morty had given him. Rick's almost embarrassed to admit how commanding that one Morty was—how his presence was  _boss_ , while Rick was delegated to  _new intern._ The only reason he was so thoroughly thrashed is because he had never expected anything along the lines of _'cock-sucking motherfucker with a daddy kink, what the fuck did you do that for, you old bastard?'_ to come out of a Morty' mouth.

He's glad that his Morty isn't so... Strong-willed, he thinks, looking to where Morty is scrolling through his phone, the barest hint of a smirk on his face. Rick shudders, and looks down again. He's plotting something; and, come to think of it, the Miami Morty had been rather feminine, hadn't he?

Is it possible that Morty had somehow found one Morty in a billion, that hates Rick, and is inviting him, and he also just happens to use the name Tisha?

Honestly, the answer is no, but Morty has a special way of defying expectations and logic, so Rick will have to keep an ear out for anything telling.

In the meantime...

 

 **RiggetyRick:** what to do if morty is planning something secret?

He doesn't get an answer right away, but he waits. There is some use to sharing his life with his doppelgangers, he supposes, because that means they can share their experiences with him. Rick understands that mistakes are a part of life, blah blah blah, but if he doesn't copy his own mistakes, then he doesn't have to make any personally. It's kind of convoluted, but it all makes sense. Kind of.

 **pickleerick:** bitch?? run??? my morty blew up my garage, the little fucker

 **pickleerick:** long story short, hide the explosives, hide the knives, and hide your garage if you have one

 **Drunkkkkkkk:** lmfo yous shuld probabbly talc to hunm.

 **Drunkkkkkkk:** im. imw s3oo drunkc haha3 ha

 **DaBestRicardo:** honestly, you should spy on him for a while. mortys b wildin

 **ricky:** ¿Qué quiere él?

 **RiggetyRick:** i dont know, i havent done anything differently recently, but he's typing away to all your mortys, and planning something, i know it

 **rickdiculous:** Are you a paranoid Rick? You know, I know a Rick that sells chill-pills cheap, if you know what I mean?

 **RiggetyRick:** if i were paranoid WHICH IM NOT, why would i touch your random bitch drugs?

 **rickdiculous:** We're addicts you whore

 **ricky:** @rickdiculous send me your dealer thru pm

 **WubbaLubbaDubDub:** are you sure it's your morty? i had this whole stint with a robot replacement. if he bleeds red, he's probably okay

 

God, Rick's never had much love for himself, but he has even less love for alternate versions of himself; they're all completely and utterly useless. And, to make matters worse, he has to go and spend time with Ricardo. Rick likes Ricardo more than he likes most other Ricks, but the man is an arrogant dick. He swipes his thumb up, sending a quick message to his private number.

 

 **RickG124:**  need to come to your bar, morty's been catching on 

Thankfully, Ricardo needs no further explanation. He doesn't start work until later, so Rick will catch him when he relieves one of his other staff-members.

 **RicardoW345:**  ¿tú sabes cómo llegar ahí?

 **RickG124:** yeah, ill show just before closing

 **Ricardo345:** ok

 

"Hey, Morty, make sure your friend is ready to go in, like, an hour." He says, to which Morty just hums.

 

*

 

It turns out, Rick had forgotten where the bar is.

It's not unexpected; he normally gets drunk by himself, and then feels sociable enough to go interact with his brothers in a more public setting. Luckily, Morty knows the way; a strange little nugget of information about Morty, that promptly gets tucked away in the folds of Rick's brain. Morty is good at remembering where Rick likes to drink--good on him.

Morty's friend is going to meet them there: Morty had said something about "needing a little more time to get ready", a quick little snippet that feels like it's a part of a much larger practical joke. 

When they finally burst in, there are already quite a few Ricks there; never one for the shame associated with the times they drank, Ricks were always in and out of bars. It's good for business, Rick won't lie--it's genius to put liquor stores, and bars, and clubs on the Citadel, because they never run out of loyal customers. But, to be honest, any company that supplies drinks will need to use half their budget to pay for the damages caused by drunken fights. 

Morty brightens when he sees someone sitting at the bar, and their yellow shirt immediately alerts Rick to the fact that they are not a Miami Morty.

What makes Rick's jaw drop, is that they're not a Morty at all.

A bright-eyed Morticia is sitting with Morty, her eyes emphasised by long eyelashes made longer by mascara, and her hair pulled up in two little buns, each on one side of her head. Her top isn't a normal Morty-shirt; no, the colour is where all similarities end. Her top is tight and lacey, tailored to fit her slender figure. She’s not wearing jeans either—she has high-waisted shorts that are the same colour as Morty’s jeans.

She turns to wave at him, sparkly lipgloss gleaming, even with the dim lighting. “You’re Morty’s Rick, no?” She asks, her tone very lightly accented.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak; Morticias are rare. They’re more than rare, they’re a statistical anomaly, a flaw in the system that no-one’s been able to explain before. Rick’s never seen one in his life, and now he’s finding out that his Morty knew one all along? Morty smiles innocently at him, and Rick is tempted to strangle him. Morty is tugging his leash on the Citadel, that much is for sure, and it’s just another reason to go home (no matter how enlightening this stay has become).

”Voulez-vous un café?” Morty asks, turning to his companion. 

“They sell those here?” She laughs, and sends Rick a barely-there look before replying. “Well... Combien ça coute?”

The little girl-Morty figured out he doesn’t know French; Rick really, really regrets not adjusting the translator chip in his ear. It’s been broken for ages, and he had never been bothered to fix it, because he’d taken too much pride in the languages he frequents.

Fuck, his pride will be the death of him. Ricardo raises his brow at him, slinging a grubby towel over his shoulder. “Me duele la cabeza,” Rick moans to the man, gesturing violently at the two teenagers. There’s fucking glitter dusting the girl’s arms, and Rick’s bombarded by a train of scientific curiosity, and about a million questions. It’s been ages since he’s interacted with a teenage girl that’s not Summer, and he doesn’t really want to scare her off just yet.

Ricardo huffs out a laugh, his throat hoarse and echoing a gravelly smokers’ cough. “Oh? Me duele la garganta.”

Rick shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Your throat hurts because you chain smoke, idiot.”

Ricardo shrugs, and goes back to cleaning glasses. Rick orders a drink, while Morty and Tisha order coffee—and, ew, Rick can’t see the appeal. He drinks his coffee with at least three shots of whiskey, or he doesn’t have it at all. The same could be said for literally any other drink; hell, he can’t remember the last time he drank proper water. Morty, as though reading his thoughts, whips his head around.

“You should drink—you should order some water, Rick,” he says, concern creasing his forehead. “Y’know, and get hydrated.”

The Morticia nods her head from beside him, and Rick feels a pang of vague amusement that she thinks she knows him. Her eyelids are a glittery gold, and he’s almost blinded. By that, and all her dainty jewellery, that sits at the base of her throat and around her wrists. God, Morty sure knows how to pick ‘em. Rich and self-important. His inner GPS is recalculating, reminding him not to be rude lest Morty bitch at him (and refuse to tell Rick any of his other secrets). Keeping his tongue firmly in his mouth, he rolls his eyes at Ricardo, as if to say; ‘Can you believe them?’

Ricardo, to his credit, huffs out a few grumbled words of acknowledgment. 

“Excuse me, sir?” The Morticia asks Ricardo, her voice high-pitched. “Do you have a bathroom?”

Ricardo pulls his oldest joke; “Yo no hablo ingles.”

Tisha slumps back in her seat, looking pleadingly at Morty. She seems embarrassed, and Rick’s about to take pity on her when Morty asks:

“¿Dónde está el baño?”

Rick’s hands are on his phone before his mind can process what exactly just happened.

Every compliment he’s ever given Morty in Spanish, every drunken word that’s fallen off his tongue in his first language rises to the top of his mind, eager to haunt him.

”Oh,  _shit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> ¿Qué quiere él?: what does he want?
> 
> ¿tú sabes cómo llegar ahí?: do you know how to get there?
> 
> Voulez-vous un café?: would you like a coffee?
> 
> combien ça coute: how much does it cost?
> 
> Me duele la cabeza: my head hurts
> 
> Me duele la garganta: my throat hurts
> 
> yo no hablo ingles: no, i don’t speak english
> 
> ¿Dónde está el baño?: where’s the bathroom?
> 
> If you honestly thought i WOULDNT force Morticia in there at some point, shame on you. My girl deserves all the love. Leave me some love in the comments, and on my [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xbloodrunsredx)

**Author's Note:**

> love hearing your feedback, make sure you leave a comment and kudos <3
> 
> translations:
> 
> excusez-moi: excuse me!
> 
> je suis très désolé: i am so sorry
> 
> je dois partir, mon rick: i have to go, my rick-
> 
> Ce n'est pas ton faute: it's not your fault
> 
> salut: bye!
> 
> ich liebe dich (already said but jic): i love you
> 
> mon ami: my friend
> 
> eh bien: depends on context, here it means 'oh well'


End file.
